Day 14: P A R T Y?

...in the infamous words of Billie Piper: because we want to, because we want to.

And party we did - but the sight of russian girls dancing on tables with a mixture of sunburnt tourists and professional local gawkers looking on in a club that resembeled a great glass elevator was not the best thing to come out of our night out in Baga.


Let me start at the beginning: after arriving and checking in at our lovely seafront hostel we heading to the beach to watch the cricket (that's right readers; thanks to the T20 I am now an avid fan) since India were playing. To get further into the spirit of things we first decided to order Goan's very own liqour Fenny (pronounced feee-nny), available in the inviting coconut or cashew variety. We opted for coconut and were greeted with a large measure of, honestly, one of the worst smelling things I have ever smelt (this from someone who hasn't washed a single of item of clothing since the trip began.) We washed it down with dinner and as India lost we made our way to Tito's - a street of bars and clubs owned by Mr. PartyKingofGoa, apparently.

In a bar we got talking to an amazing ex-Mumbian, now Canadian, mother and daughter duo Peggie and Jihan - who would have guessed Jenga could have been the start of something? Well it was! And after some competitive play we hit the club - yes with a mum, coolest mum ever? (don't worry els, trish - you're still right up there) and danced the night away to some seriously average hip hop. Well, you can't have everything.

Happy to have got our party on we exchanged email addresses and, with talk of a day trip on Sunday, we said our goodbyes and headed back over the river and by the sea to bed.